


Moment of Repose

by twoturtlesinabathtub



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Humor, Language, M/M, Romance, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:00:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29898708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoturtlesinabathtub/pseuds/twoturtlesinabathtub
Summary: Having a possible narcoleptic for a boyfriend had taught Byleth to seize any opportunity, no matter how small, to initiate intimacy. It was just that Linhardt's sleep schedule always seemed to have different plans.
Relationships: Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Moment of Repose

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me, not being very productive during one of the most stressful years of my life and posting a single one-shot in the span of a year :D Of course it was the fucking nerd that kicked my gay ass back in gear and had me frantically jotting down borderline smut in my notebook at work.
> 
> Rated a very light M for language and some sexual anatomical words

In Byleth's defense, his sojourn to the monastery's library had started out with the purest of intentions.

That was, of course, before he found his boyfriend alone, perusing the shelves with a singular intensity, absently twirling a long, dark lock of hair round his finger. And...well. Who could blame Byleth for, when finding Linhardt alone and alert, sneaking up behind him to, for all intents and purposes, pin the mage to the nearest stable surface and kiss him until he could barely remember his own name? Fódlan was going to hell in a handbasket, tensions were high, and when one's lover was rarely caught in a state of being both cognizant and solitary, one had to make the most of the moment.

A few painfully short moments in, Linhardt dragged himself away from Byleth with palpable reluctance. "Perhaps we should move this to a bed," he muttered, pulling back slightly. "Yours is closer. And mine is covered in books I'd rather not take the time to remove."

"You're just going to fall asleep on me again," Byleth complained.

"I've only done it twice."

"Two out of the last three times aren't the most encouraging statistics, Lin."

"It just means I'm comfortable. Besides," the mage's languid smile turned sly. "I make it up to you."

Byleth's eyebrow lifted. "Are you referring to last week when you woke up from a dead sleep and pinned me to the mattress? You scared the shit out of me!"

"Oh? I just assumed your scream was one of enthusiasm." Linhardt grinned slightly at Byleth's amused snort. "Well, I guess there's nothing for it, then."

Even though it should've felt annoying, Byleth thought it was kind of funny how he still had a difficult time figuring out which of Linhardt's half-lidded gazes in moments like this were flirtatious, and which were merely sleepy. "'Nothing for' what?"

"I leave it to you to perform a cost-benefit analysis." Linhardt's expression was impassive as he perched on the edge of the table behind him, leaning back slightly on his hands. "It's most certainly feasible that we stay here to while away whatever free time you may have left. However, since I'd rather not risk having to explain to random passersby why I was debauching our beloved teacher..." Here his eyes roved over Byleth, lingering on his flushed cheeks. "I'd be forced to limit our scope of activity. Get straight to the point, but with considerable boundaries.

"On the other hand, it's also feasible that we take the time—"

"This is your idea of sexy talk, isn't it?"

Linhardt placed a finger against Byleth's mouth to shush him. "Is this not doing it for you? Fine." His hand migrated downwards to grasp Byleth's tunic and pull him even closer to the mage. Linhardt's next words were wildly at odds with his placid expression. "Take me to your room and I may just let you fuck me, _Professor_."

Byleth suddenly felt winded. "Well," he ground out, hands twitching as he forced himself to refrain from grabbing Linhardt by the hips and rutting against him in the middle of the damned library like a horny teenager, "cost-benefit analysis complete."

Linhardt smiled innocently. "See? Was that so hard?" Byleth highly doubted the slow drag of Linhardt's hand down his front _coincidentally_ ended with a slide of slim fingers against Byleth's clothed and now very interested dick at the end of his sentence.

Byleth inhaled sharply through his nose and caught the wandering hand in an iron grip, pulling Linhardt towards the library door.

Linhardt resisted slightly. "My books," he weakly protested as he was hauled along.

"They aren't going anywhere," muttered Byleth as his pace didn't slow. The mage sighed dramatically but kept up with Byleth's rapid stride, and they hurried to the Professor's quarters in record time.

Linhardt was a delightful combination of someone who was lightweight and also had a predilection for being tossed around a bit; by the time Byleth had slammed and locked his door and pushed Linhardt against the wall beside his bulletin board, spots of color had already appeared high on the mage's cheeks and his breathing was coming in short puffs. Byleth tilted his head, grinning as he noticed with satisfaction Linhardt's wide-eyed, attentive gaze.

"Feeling any more awake now?" he teased.

Linhardt scowled. "I think my condition would be further improved if you were wearing less. Off, please." He gestured to Byleth's clothes.

Byleth's eyes narrowed mischievously. "Why? That isn't entirely necessary. Maybe you'll need the extra layer for protection." One of his knees slipped between Linhardt's thighs, applying a gentle pressure as he took the mage by the hips and edged closer until there was no space left between them.

It took a few seconds for the implication to sink in, then Linhardt looked at the teacher in horror. "I am _not_ having sex against a wall."

"Why not?" Byleth was clearly enjoying Linhardt's distress. "I've never seen you fall asleep standing up, and we haven't tried it before. There's a first time for everything. Aren't you curious?" The C-word. Linhardt's weakness. Byleth's smile didn't relent as he tipped his head upwards to capture the mage's lips in a firm kiss.

An irritated groan started low in Linhardt's throat, but it quickly grew into one of pleasure as the kiss deepened. One of Linhardt's hands found its way into Byleth's hair as he pressed even more closely into the professor, the kiss becoming less coordinated and more of a clash of lips and tongue and the occasional accidental bump of teeth. When they had to part for air, Linhardt leveled Byleth with the most scathing glare he could manage. "That was a low blow," he hissed between labored breaths, "but I still refuse."

"Lin, come on, I don't want to be cockblocked by your absurdly inconsistent circadian rhythm!"

"I..." Linhardt's eyes darted about the room as he tried to buy time, like he was pretending their cocks weren't getting more and more hard the longer they were pressed between their bodies. "I have...b-bad knees."

Byleth rolled his eyes. "Liar."

"I won't be able to stay standing," said Linhardt crossly. The professor bit back a laugh at how Linhardt probably didn't realize that at that moment he was practically writhing against Byleth, panting into his mouth as he tried to pretend he was actually irritated. "I don't have your stamina," he insisted.

Despite recognizing Linhardt's blatant attempt to flatter him into conceding, Byleth yielded without comment, though not before giving the mage a deadpan stare. "Fine," he sighed.

Linhardt's expression lit up as the teacher began to move backwards towards his bed, hands still on the mage's narrow hips as he guided them both. When Byleth felt the backs of his knees brush against the edge of his mattress, a sudden impulse hit him; with a playful leer, he swept his arm under Linhardt's knees to hold him in his arms, his grin widening when he saw Linhardt's face turn a brilliant crimson and he looked as though he were about to swoon. Byleth leaned down to give the mage a quick peck, then unceremoniously tossed Linhardt onto the bed.

He landed on his back with a huff, eyes unfocused, already looking like a blissed-out wreck, to no end of Byleth's amusement. Linhardt reached out to the professor as sluggishly as if he were moving through water, and his hand made little grabby motions. "Get down here, you," he mumbled.

Byleth, bless him, was a little confused. Did Linhardt sound like that because he was so turned on? Was it because he was already getting drowsy again? Whatever the case, Linhardt was on his back now, so they needed to hurry the hell up.

Without preamble, thanking his earlier decision to dress lightly, Byleth kicked off his boots, which went flying goddess-knew-where in the room, and managed to get rid of his tunic without accidentally tearing it in his haste. Linhardt, meanwhile, had only by then managed to undo his hair so he wouldn't be uncomfortably resting the weight of his head on the bun he favored. When Byleth glanced over and saw the mage moving at an impeccably glacial pace, he frowned. "Can't you get naked faster?" he said.

Linhardt side-eyed him as his hands slowly drifted town to begin undoing the top button of his doublet. "This is fast. ...Isn't it?" he asked without a hint of sarcasm.

" _Wow_ , you're out of it." Byleth was either on the verge of laughing or pulling his hair out, but he wasn't going to wait to see which it'd be. "Most people don't fall asleep during foreplay," he noted as he yanked off Linhardt's boots; his trousers were quick to follow.

Linhardt was working on his third button.

"Lin..." Byleth put his head in his hands. " _You're_ the one who suggested we come in here."

"Not true. I merely—" Linhardt yawned so hugely that Byleth was worried his boyfriend's jaw would crack— "gave you the options. You made the final decision regarding our location." The mage gave Byleth a slow curl of a smile. "Did you accurately weigh the potential costs?"

"Don't take so long to blink," Byleth pleaded. Linhardt just let out a punch-drunk little snicker. "Okay, okay. Idea. Let's switch."

Linhardt's eyebrows twitched upwards momentarily. "I'm listening."

Byleth suddenly felt a little abashed. "You know...I mean, it's usually the other way around, but..." Oh, what he wouldn't give to possess Linhardt's blunt, calm temperament.

Neither the mage's expression nor tone wavered. "You want me to fuck you instead?" There it was.

"You'd be less likely to fall asleep," Byleth replied, managing not to stammer.

"Hmm." Linhardt's hand came up to Byleth's waist, fingers squeezing lightly. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give it a try." He yawned again.

"All right! Let's do this." Byleth wrapped his arms around the mage and rolled them both of them so that Linhardt was draped over him.

Finally, _finally_ , Linhardt seemed to rouse himself. He raised his head from where it lay on Byleth's chest and shook it a little, then reached up and over his head to roughly jerk his tunic off. It sailed through the air, landing on the professor's desk and upsetting an inkwell and several sheafs of parchment. Byleth couldn't give less of a shit about it, though, since Linhardt was hovering above him, weight on his elbows, the mage's long, dark hair surrounding the two of them and reducing their world to the barely-there space remaining between them.

Linhardt waited, waited, until the air between them was humming, then he smiled that lazy grin. Byleth surged up and met his lips halfway, his hands knotting in Linhardt's hair as a wave of warmth swept through him. The mage's hand trailed down Byleth's—still clothed, unfortunately—thigh, hooking one of the teacher's legs over Linhardt's waist. Byleth used this new leverage to bring the other man down further, until their bodies were flush from the waist down.

Three layers. Three measly layers of goddess-damned fabric lay between Byleth's odds of getting off before his boyfriend _dropping_ off.

"Look at you," Linhardt murmured, his lips trailing down to Byleth's neck to mouth over his pulse, then his clavicle, then his sweat-slick chest. "Either I'm asleep already, or I'm dreaming awake."

Byleth had no smart retort; he could only draw shuddering breaths as the mage's questing mouth moved farther and farther south, nipping here, sucking a mark there, as long, deceptively strong fingers held him in place. He was going mad, out of his head, anticipation scrambling any semblance of coherent thought _That's it that's it keep going oh goddess above we're going to make it I can't believe—_

In his muddled euphoria, Byleth failed to notice Linhardt's slowing momentum until it reached a crawl, then stopped altogether. He opened his eyes and looked down at his boyfriend, who was facedown, unmoving, cheek smushed against Byleth's stomach. No.

"Lin."

Nothing.

_"Linhardt."_

The mage let out a quiet snore.

_Are you_ fucking _kidding me?_ Byleth wanted to shout.

But he didn't. Wouldn't. _Couldn't_ —he couldn't find it in himself to wake Linhardt up. That would mean taking away one of the budding scholar's most treasured commodities: rest, unawareness, respite from their grim reality of blood and gore and anguish and war. Byleth just couldn't.

Sending a silent prayer of apology to his dick, he softly breathed out through his nose and rolled slowly so they were lying side by side, wrapping his arms around the mage. If Linhardt was going to snooze, then he may as well stay with him. Not that Byleth was worried about waking him—Linhardt could and probably _would_ sleep through a full-scale invasion of the monastery. Byleth snuggled closer to him, closed his eyes, and slipped away.

He was ripped from his slumber by scorching breath on his cheek, firm hands pinning his wrists near his head, and a long body pressed insistently against his from above. "Wh—" he started, panicked, but couldn't finish when another pair of lips came down on his.

Shit, Linhardt _knew_ Byleth had no heartbeat. It wouldn't surprise the professor one bit if it turned out the other man was experimenting on whether Byleth could have a fucking heart attack in spite of it. He doubted that was the case in their current situation, though, considering the rapidly hardening cock pressed to his hip.

"You will absolutely be the death of me," he huffed when they finally broke for air.

"Nonsense. You're too valuable to the war effort. Now..." Linhardt's teeth scraped against the side of Byleth's throat as one of his hands wandered down to grab a handful of Byleth's ass. "Where were we?"

The teacher's answering breathless laugh was swallowed up by another greedy kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> "...His sleep was for the first time utterly without dreams. He had been dreaming awake."  
> -Stephen King 
> 
> stay safe during quarantine, friends! love y'all


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